


This Cold, Uncertain Day

by shadows_of_1832 (SaoirseVictoire)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, F/M, Romance, past violence (mention), period-typical punishment (mention)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26979241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaoirseVictoire/pseuds/shadows_of_1832
Summary: ""In another time, another place, I would be willing to fight alongside you, regardless of it being in Nassau or in France, by words or by cannons.”"In which Eponine, a pirate captain, has a heart-to-heart discussion with Enjolras, the captain of the passenger ship of which she holds for ransom.
Relationships: Enjolras/Éponine Thénardier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	This Cold, Uncertain Day

Captain Eponine Thenardier will not allow herself to go soft. She has been fighting and sailing too long to do so, and will continue in that manner. It is a dangerous life to lead, she knows it, one that could have her at the wrong end of a gun or more likely at the end of a noose.

But it ensures the survival of her siblings on New Providence, in Nassau, and she will do whatever is in her power to see they remain well and out of harm’s way. Leave her to the life of thievery and risk for earnings and trade in the pirate stronghold.

Keeps them off the street. They know of the life on the street well, they all do, and curse her soul to the darkest depths of these waters were any of her siblings to end up there again.

She looks out the east, seeing the edges of light on the horizon, casting a reddish-orange hue upon the Atlantic’s waves as the moon’s silvery reflection disappears behind her.

Any day now, the ransom for the safety of the Fauchelevants and their associates, as well as that of the crew of the _Corinth_ , will arrive. And with it, possibly the sealing of her fate.

If anything happens, her crew knows enough to pass her share along to her sister for the care of her and her brothers, with the hope it will be enough until her sister either marries or finds honorable work.

If this all goes as she wishes, she won’t have to worry about that.

She breathes in the crisp, night ocean air, reveling in the quiet that surrounds her in the night’s calm waters. There’s the flicker of flames on the almost empty deck, mostly for the members of her crew on watch so they don’t trip over their own feet, as they are very much prone to do.

Was Captain Enjolras right in regards to her demand of a ransom, that she had perhaps taken things too far? After all, not only had she captured an innocent family embarking to a new world, but an influential member of the police force back in France and whose only purpose was to see the family across and return home.

Not that there wasn’t a rope waiting for her already.

And now, rumor had it that there was now one waiting for Captain Enjolras the instant his foot stepped on French soil. If Inspector Javert, Monsieur Gillenormand, and those with them had their way. Apparently Captain Enjolras not wanting any bloodshed on his _Corinth_ , specifically that of the passengers, was an act of cowardice and treason, in the older men’s eyes. Had there not been a gun held to Monsieur Fauchelevant’s chest and his daughter not being held back by swords, based on what she’s come to know of the captain, he would have fought until he ran out of breath, his men with him.

“Early rising again, I see.”

She hears the words before she catches the sound of footsteps approaching her. Had she not been so caught in her thoughts along with the fatigue of abandoning another night’s rest, it would have been the reverse.

Not that she’ll tell Captain Enjolras that, even as he leans against the rail beside her.

“This is when the ship is at her quietest,” she replies.

“That it is,” he says, looking out the horizon. “A calming view to accompany it. No signs of a storm.”

 _Not a weather-related one, at least_ , she keeps to herself. She turns her head to him, a peaceful expression upon his face, the stern rigidness in his posture from days before vanished.

“Has it been this calm all night?” he asks.

“Yes,” she replies, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I’m not concerned about being at the ocean’s mercy.”

“That or her winds? I suppose as long as doldrums do not become part of the itinerary, we should be safe,” he says, gazing towards the horizon. “Though I am more concerned about the mercy, if any, I will receive once I return to France.”

She snorts. “I wouldn’t fret much of it. You’ve got a whole crew to vouch for you, and I’m sure old Fauchelevant would more than likely write any missive to support it. Javert’s got a stick up his arse, anyway, as does Gillenormand.”

“If only the French justice system were as simple as that for a man’s innocence, as if people will not bribe for a guilty sentence. Monsieur Gillenormand has the influence enough to secure the noose; no need for any financial compensation.” He takes a deep breath. “Given all that has happened here, I would prefer to be at your mercy than theirs.”

A corner of her lip upturns, trying to avoid any consideration of a double-meaning to the last phrase. The poor man probably hadn’t realized the impression the phrase made. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Captain.”

He gives a curt nod. His eyes remain focused on the horizon. There’s a lost look in his expression, and something laying beneath she cannot name. “If the _Corinth_ was not in need of her repairs, I would tell you now to sail away with your crew and leave. Forgot your note of ransom ever existed.”

“I’m not afraid of the French navy, or any navy for that matter.”

“It is not them I am concerned about, but rather you, were you to be captured.”

She shrugs, looking back to the water. “It’s not a concern of yours. Go back to worrying about the mercy you might not get returning to France.”

“It would be foolishness to do so; what happens upon my return is out of my hands,” he replies, the weight of the unknown bearing on his shoulders. He glances at her, returns his attention to the horizon. “Given the circumstances, I would consider following you to Nassau, but as much as it pains me to say it, once civilization returns for her, she will not be safe for you or any man that has the description of ‘pirate’ alongside their name.”

“Civilization won’t take her; she’s ours.”

“Maybe not today, but they will,” he states, turning to her. “Her future is uncertain, and while your people have a stronghold there now, it is only a matter of time. I would rather she remains as she is, but if Britain does not make some strides to reclaim her, another will.”

“Interesting words for someone whose neck is going to be snapped by civilization for doing no wrong,” she retorts. “You have such peculiar beliefs, and you appear to be at a borderline you’re afraid to cross. Why?”

His body goes rigid at the question, and he goes back to staring towards the horizon. His gaze turns more to the left, looking more towards the northeast than towards the soon-to-be rising sun. “I have my reasons for preferring to stay on the obeying side of the law, no matter how much I disagree with it. In another time, another place, I would be willing to fight alongside you, regardless of it being in Nassau or in France, by words or by cannons.”

“I see…” she replies, wondering if his motivations to remain on his side of the law were for the same reasons as hers in the fight against it.

His eyes flicker to her, distant, as if looking for words to say, knowing what he wants to say, but the phrasing of them fails him. He takes a deep breath, looking to the horizon. “Mornings like this, they feel rather few, do they not? Compared to the storms we weather, being at the mercy of the ocean’s waves?” he asks, eyes flickering to her then back to the water. “You never can predict if she will spare you or pull you to her depths. Steer the ship and do what you will with the masts, but there remains still the uncertainty if you will see the storm end. You and her, I see the similarities.”

She turns her head, raising an eyebrow.

He takes a few breaths. “You and her share an unpredictability that make you both dangerous, as well as the ability to leave men breathless in your wake, and yet, there is a certain stillness within you both that causes a struggle in one’s mind that either of you are as lethal as you are.”

She feels warmth spread across her cheeks, and turns away in the hope that the lingering darkness will hide it.

“Am I being rather forward?” he asks, turning to her, a look of uncertain alarm in his eyes. “I meant no offense.”

Eponine shakes her head, cursing herself at allowing the man to read such an expression from her. She takes a few steps away, no longer able to meet his gaze. “The words are not unwelcome, but it’s just…”

He takes a slow step towards her in concern, then pauses.

She glances towards him. “Perhaps, maybe…if only we had met under different circumstances.”

His brows furrow.

“There are words I would like to say, Captain, but there is no way for me to say them without bringing you to ruin.” There is a pain in her chest she ignores, the desire to get the words out contradicted by the feelings she will not voice.

“I see.” He turns away, focusing back on the horizon. She notes the pain in his eyes.

“It’s a dangerous path I lead, whether it involves the smallest of ships or the largest of fleets, regardless of the end goal,” she says, taking a deep breath. “If you associate yourself with me, it will lead to your downfall. I can’t in good conscience allow that.”

But oh, does she want to! But by making the choices she has in the past, any entanglements she has will only make things difficult, especially as the threat of the mainland’s forces increase their attacks and become a stronger threat than they were before.

“As if the life I lead is any less dangerous. We are not immune to attack as a passenger ship, as you and your crew have proven, and in my many years of sailing, I have dealt with far worse than this.” His hand drifts to a faint scar that runs along his neck and disappears underneath his cravat, and a haunted look forms in his eyes.

She herself has dealt with the ocean’s terrors, has seen her fair share of attacks since her early days of swabbing decks on the _Wolf_. While it’s long faded and washed away, she’s certain there isn’t a spot on the deck that hasn’t been drenched in blood, whether it’d be from the falling of a mast in a storm or from being at the wrong end of someone’s cutlass. Her own scars from the latter, she hardly thinks about unless standing before a mirror.

“I wouldn’t be terribly surprised.” She turns to focus on the endless dark waves. “I have my days where staying on shore would have me at my most content, but there are responsibilities I have there that keeps me on these open waters.”

“I do long for the days where I may no longer have to step again onto a ship, but many years will pass before such a time arrives, if it ever does.” His gaze drifts down to where the water collides with the hull. “There are people depending on me. My sister and nephew, if something happened to me…I would rather not think about it.”

She glances at him, taking a deep breath. Such a thought, she dreads, but the chance of it becoming reality isn’t something to be overlooked.

A faint tune drifts over to them from the front of the ship, a flute-like sound likely from a crew member of the _Corinth_ , as she doesn’t recall anyone on her crew having such a thing. His head lifts up, scanning the deck of the ship; Eponine herself can only make out the silhouette of the lookout in the crow’s nest.

His eyes fall back on her, a moment of hesitation. Then, he holds out his hand. “May I have this dance, Captain?”

She looks at him in disbelief. “I’m afraid I don’t know how, unless you count the jigs at drunken taverns.”

“Follow my lead,” he replies, taking a couple steps away from the rail, still holding out his hand to her.

And she takes it, curiosity getting the best of her. He lets go, bowing towards her, and she does the same.

It starts with a bit of distance, where only a single hand meets that of the other, palm to palm, at eye level, her eyes staring into his as they circle, then a turn the other way, switching hands in the process, left hand meeting left, right meeting right. A couple rounds of this. A pause. He turns to her, and she takes notice of how their fingers interlocked, then drawn into him, with his other hand on her lower back and hers on his shoulder.

His eyes focus on hers, and the feeling of wanting to drown in them becomes ever-more tempting; she curses herself for it.

“I don’t think fraternizing with the pirate captain is going to earn your survival,” she comments, their bodies shifting and slowly swaying to the tune.

The corner of his mouth upturns. “I should like to see Inspector Javert and Monsieur Gillenormand try to use this in their reasoning.”

A soft hum of amusement passes through her lips as she gives him a small smile. He takes a few steps to the right, turning them as he did so, guiding her feet with his own, her taking care that her feet do not overstep his. His eyes are gentle, kind, and his overall expression blended with a stirring emotion she refuses to name, an emotion that she knows is revealed in her own, despite her conscious efforts to avoid it.

“Whatever should happen, whether it is today, tomorrow, weeks from now,” he starts to say, concern etched in voice, “take care. See yourself safe.”

“You, too,” she breathes, her hand that had been on his shoulder reaching to brush his cheek. She brings herself closer to him, tilting her head to the side, lips parted slightly—

“Sails, to the east!” comes a shout from the crow’s nest.

The music stops. She and Captain Enjolras step away from one another, their moment lost to the sudden awakening of the ship.

The warmth in his expression fades, a tinge of sadness in his eyes. Then, his jaw tightened, and he tears his sight from her, stepping to the rail and removing his spyglass from his pocket. He peers out, his eyes narrowing to focus. A few moments, and he lowers the spyglass, gives her a curt nod, and hands it to her.

She raises the spyglass, and in the distance, makes out the familiar white banner.

“Today, so it seems,” he says as she lowers the spyglass and hands it back to him. He returns it to his pocket, then reaches for her hand. “In the case I do not have the opportunity to speak with you again, take care of yourself, and may the next time we meet be under better circumstances.”

“Likewise,” she replies.

There’s the reassuring squeeze of his hand, a parting smile, and he turns to vanish below deck.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration: "Oh My Captain" from "The Lady Pirates of Captain Bree" - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98tYfsi97vg (I wish I knew how to do actual links in the notes here.)


End file.
